Anthology of Magazine Verse for 1921/Keats
KEATS
(1821—1921)
When sometimes, on a moony night, I've passed
A street-lamp, seen my doubled shadow flee,
I've noticed how much darker, clearer cast,
The full moon poured her silhouette of me.
A street-lamp, seen my doubled shadow flee,
I've noticed how much darker, clearer cast,
The full moon poured her silhouette of me.
Just so of spirits, Beauty's silver light
Limns with a purer ray, and tenderer too:
Men's clumsy gestures, to unearthly sight,
Surpass the shapes they show by human view.
Limns with a purer ray, and tenderer too:
Men's clumsy gestures, to unearthly sight,
Surpass the shapes they show by human view.
On this brave world, where few such meteors fell,
Her youngest son, to save us, Beauty flung. -
He suffered and descended into hell—
And comforts still the ardent and the young.
Her youngest son, to save us, Beauty flung. -
He suffered and descended into hell—
And comforts still the ardent and the young.
Drunken of moonlight, dazed by draughts of sky,
Dizzy with stars, his mortal fever ran:
His utterance a moon-enchanted cry
Not free from folly—for he too was man.
Dizzy with stars, his mortal fever ran:
His utterance a moon-enchanted cry
Not free from folly—for he too was man.
And now and here, a hundred years away,
Where topless towers shadow golden streets,
The young men sit, nooked in a cheap café,
Perfectly happy. . . talking about Keats.
Where topless towers shadow golden streets,
The young men sit, nooked in a cheap café,
Perfectly happy. . . talking about Keats.
The BookmanChristopher Morley